


Rags to late night television

by mannelig



Series: Bone Pit Studios [3]
Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Gen, M/M, Modern Thedas, talk show host au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-13
Updated: 2015-11-13
Packaged: 2018-05-01 08:52:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,320
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5199752
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mannelig/pseuds/mannelig
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Here's the thing: Hawke hadn't always been a talk show host.</p>
<p>Shocking, but true.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rags to late night television

    Here's the thing: Hawke hadn't always been a talk show host.  
  
    Shocking, but true.  
  
    In fact, prior to Kirkwall, he'd never so much as considered going into television. But then the Blight had happened, and bribing their way into Kirkwall via indentured servitude happened, and he'd needed something to distract him from mercenary work, so he'd started making Youtube videos. Silly, five-minute clips on the shittiest camera in Thedas, and in the end, it only took one to boost him into internet fame. He saved up and bought a better camera and, with Carver along as a reluctant cameraman, the first iteration of Hawke Talk came into being.  
  
    Mostly it was goofy shit, pranks and the like, and once he even scaled the Keep at night and got stuck on the roof, which put him in deep shit with Aveline but got the first genuine laugh out of Carver since Beth- since _Ferelden_. But other times, Hawke rambled about books and politics, and he once spent an afternoon doing nothing but filming a guard picking his nose.  
  
    The point is, Hawke, too, was once a small fry, and one more interested in surviving than in making it big on screen.  
  
  
  
    “Hang on,” he said, elbow-deep in dragon guts, “is this a studio?”  
  
    The Bone Pit, horrifying name and history aside, was a nondescript, run-down building halfway between Hightown and Lowtown, cursed with that gaudy architecture particular to the first two decades of Dragon, aka “the Golden Age” of television. Hawke hadn’t thought anything of it at first, because all throughout Kirkwall were remnants of that time. During the early years, the Kirkwall media industry, feeble though it was, had attempted half-heartedly to cover up their city’s off-color past with as much glitz and neon as could reasonably be applied, but had failed to account for the weather. It was hard to be sparkly and hip when everything was either foggy or hopelessly damp.  
  
    Looking around, it was easy enough for Hawke to guess at this particular building’s recent history. “Hmm,” he said aloud, wiping his hands on the nearest surface, which happened to be Carver’s back. His brother yelped and leapt away, then scowled at him. “You think Hubert had dreams of being a producer?”  
  
    “Garrett-” Carver started, but quickly closed his mouth as Hawke swung a bit of intestine at him to see if he’d scream.  
  
    “Probably,” said Varric from another room, voice muffled by years of dust and what was probably dragon shit. “How did dragons even get into the city?”  
  
    “Tunnel to Darktown in the basement, maybe,” Hawke mused, ducking away from Carver’s half-hearted swing at his head. “I like it.”  
  
    As if by magic, a heavy silence fell, and Hawke felt a little offended when Varric and Aveline poked grimy faces out of doorways to stare at him narrow-eyed. Well, Aveline did, anyway - Varric merely looked interested, as if he was waiting to see what would happen. Carver, for his part, only looked resigned.  
  
    “I don’t think I like the sound of that,” said Aveline, and really, had she learned nothing? Those words were only bound to encourage him.  
  
    “Just think!” he said brightly, gesturing with his staff at the ceiling. “I mean, if we get new lights and things, we’ve got plenty of decor already.”  
  
    “What, the dragons?” Aveline asked, voice drier than - well. Certainly drier than their present location.  
  
    Warming to the idea, Hawke winked at her. “Exactly! We could have them stuffed and hung round to scare people into behaving! They would follow the rules, Aveline, surely that’s appealing to you.”  
  
    She appeared to actually consider the idea, to his delight. “Would one of these stuffed dragons be used to terrorize the other guards?”  
  
    “Probably.”  
  
    “Then no.”  
  
    And it was promptly forgotten, because there was a great roar from the distance and Hawke had to investigate, but afterwards, when everybody had gotten the chance to shower and bandage themselves up, Hawke returned to Hubert with a glint in his eye and papers in hand.  
  
    For some reason, Hubert was only too happy to go halfsies and put Hawke in charge of cleanup.  
  
  
  
    But truthfully, it was all Varric’s fault, because before the Bone Pit, he’d recruited Hawke and Carver for his expedition.  
  
    Specifically, he wanted them to film a documentary of the expedition.  
  
    "Are you serious?" Carver asked, folding his arms and putting forth his best unimpressed face. "Do you normally hire cameramen off the street?"  
  
    "Technically, I'm hiring you off Youtube," Varric said breezily. "We just happened to meet in person mid-transaction, and I do hate to waste a good dramatic entrance."  
  
    "Is that what you call it?" Carver raised an eyebrow at the chip in the wall left by Varric's mage-steel crossbow bolt.  
  
    Hawke, meanwhile, had suddenly remembered an email he'd gotten two nights before. It had mentioned a job offer - to work on a documentary - and it had been so smooth that he'd immediately deleted it, because no professional would hire someone like him. He eyed Varric curiously. "And two days with no response didn't deter you?"  
  
    The dwarf winked at him, and Hawke, with the skill of a true actor, pretended that he had no idea how attractive that was. _What the fuck,_ he thought, _how is that fair? When I wink I look like I've got a tic._  
  
    "I'm a tenacious sort," Varric sighed, shrugging as if to say _What can you do?_  
  
    Despite himself, Hawke grinned. "Guess you'd have to be, you being a writer and all."  
  
    Varric grinned back. "Heard about that, did you?"  
  
    "Well, when you're a successful internet celebrity like myself, you need to stay on top of such things."  
  
    "Naturally. Why don't we continue this over a drink, like professionals? We can hash out the details at, say, the Hanged Man?"  
  
    "I hope those details include how you think we're going to get enough money to invest."  
  
  
  
    It had. And somehow, that had also meant expanding their circle of friends to include two apostates, a pirate, and a murderous elf. Not exactly a winning combination to begin with, but it was a start.  
  
    And then Hawke brought Carver into the Deep Roads.  
  
    There was no reason not to, honestly. Carver was his best cameraman, surly as he was. And anyway, Aveline couldn't leave the Guard, and much as he liked them, Hawke wasn't really willing to drag any of the others around for weeks in a bunch of tunnels. Except Anders, anyway, though he did feel bad about it. But the Blight hadn't been over long, and Grey Wardens were good in a pinch, or so he'd heard. If they'd had one around when Westley-  
  
    Anyway. He brought Anders and Carver, but he only returned with Anders, and Leandra took it poorly. Hawke himself wasn't feeling too great about shoving his baby brother into the arms of the Wardens, and so he threw himself into fixing the Bone Pit.  
  
    It took a lot of work, and eventually he did have to call in contractors to help, and he and Varric spent many a sleepless night in Varric's suite arguing with forced cheer about building plans and ignoring their problems. There was a lot of ale.  
  
  
  
    "Purple," said Hawke decisively.  
  
    "Sorry?" Varric poked his head around a sheet of plastic. There was a spot of dark blue paint on his nose. It was adorable.  
  
    "Purple." Hawke turned to look at the blank wall, the only one left. "Or maybe the skyline? For a backdrop, I mean."  
  
    His friend considered this, then suggested, "Maybe Lowtown?"  
  
    Hawke pointed his paint roller at him in triumph. "Perfect."  
  
    "Great! Now can we discuss your great idea to have the dwarf paint the ceiling?"  
  
    "You've got a long handle! I taped like five brooms together for you."  
  
    "I'd prefer scaffolding - or better, for someone else to do it!"  
  
    Hawke didn’t sigh, because he was above that sort of thing.

**Author's Note:**

> Hello hello! I've actually had this sitting around for a good minute. I have no idea how long this fic will be or where it will go! Let's find out together.


End file.
